The mighty sun is up and ready to broil the laborers tanned skin, the sky is in its usual blue, whisked by flimsy webs of milk like clouds. Green of different shades, olive green, mint green, dark green, dominates the color of the surrounding for there are a lot of trees and plants in our village. the road is muddy for it rained last night almost every night now that cold months are approaching. thus, it never slip my ears to hear complains escaping from the passers mouth about when will the accountable for road improvements will take notice on the battered street.
Children , in assorted checkered uniforms, are gaily clasping hands together while humming some familiar noon time variety show songs. it started as a hum first and then it'll get louder and louder until the hum will morph into singing the lyrics, then everyone wants there voices to be noticed and so they'll sing a bit louder than the others and they'll burst into a wrongly conducted orchestra or choir perhaps, and everything, from the hum will break into cacophonous farrago of voices and yells and shouts and screams and giggles and laughter! they will all end up laughing and running going to the school rooms and who get to first hug or touch the confused teacher, for she don't know why her gaiety little students are running like that of someone been chased by a bunch of dogs, will be awarded as the fastest runner and that has the rights to brag and pride in class.
not only the children are in a vigorous mood but also the grown-ups, semi grow-up, just grown up, hates to be grown-up, pretending to be grown-ups are feeling the warmth of life and thus, heading on there respective roads and paths and vocations and works, with the contentment of the soul, vigor of the sun and hopes and dreams. they all willed to live and so they set out to fulfill and satisfy, enjoy and content the callings of the day and there duties.
as when every one else are living there lives ahead, here i am in my room, my space where i can enjoy life in the leeway of the carnation pink walls and jade curtains hanged in rectangular wooden windows. in my space, floored by olive green tiles that coolness sneaks up in your muscles if you are not to wear any coverings on your soles, here in my room, almost claustrophobic room, for my brother's nursing stuffs, books and articles and the likes, were messily piled and mounted up on a very asymmetrical disordered manner. it is here on this single space, miserably left by time and trend, inhabited by friendly neighborhood spiders, is my world. is where i extend my world. make my world. this is where i create my ideal and picturesque universe for my own and for the others, the others are the characters i create in my universe, produced by machines like pens and papers and inks. manufactured by a brilliant brain system that was mine.
Oblivious yet sensitive and observant of the happenings outside this universe, which is my room, I'll be taking notes of the human activities, find there flaws, keep in mind there strengths and weaknesses. then i will use and parlay these learning and observations into something grandiose and useful in perfecting my universe.
